October 20, 2005

Eco- Art

by KATHERINE
ALMY

Why
should artists bother about the fate of humanity?"asked
Clive Bell, modern art critic and philosopher, in the early part
of the last century. Bell was articulating one of the principle
characteristics of modern art: Its lack of concern for the issues
of the day. During the 19th and 20th centuries, what concerned
artists was art --- color, line, form, paint. Everything else
was crude and banal and somehow beneath them. This is a bit of
an exaggeration and a gross simplification of the multiple aesthetic
philosophies that were bandied about at the time, but that's
another article. Suffice it to say that this art for art's sake
attitude has played strongly into our current beliefs about art
and artists.

But the trend could not last
forever. How long can you go over the various properties of paint
on canvas, or explore the abstraction of familiar objects? Eventually,
people being people, they want to talk about themselves again.
Especially in times of crisis, artists recognize how much a part
the community they are, and many, like Michelle Waters, search
for a way to use their art to bring about change.

Waters calls herself an eco-artist.
"Given the dire straits of these times," she states,
"I feel an urgency to produce images which are uncompromising
in their indictment of our greed and avarice as the sources of
environmental crisis." And indeed, she pulls no punches.
Her exhibit, "Spectators to Destruction," is on display
throughout the month at HSU's First Street Gallery. Her paintings
depict surreal images of wildlife taking back the wild, as it
were. The painting "Luddites" shows a variety of wild
animals --- raccoons, bears, elk, mountain lions, rabbits ---
at work dismantling and setting fire to bulldozers and other
pieces of heavy equipment. In "What's for Dinner?"
farm animals gather around the dinner table, and on the silver
serving platter? Farmer John.

The humor is broad, the colors
garish. There is nothing subtle about her work. In "Global
Warning," Arctic wildlife attack a "Bummer" dealership,
destroying the behemoth vehicles and tearing down the building.
"Humor," she says, "is a way of dealing with grief."
Like many people, she believes that our species faces a very
real and imminent crisis, not in the next millennia, but perhaps
in the next decade. With total collapse in our future (if you
believe the scientists who claim that there is little or no time
left to change our destructive ways) the flagrant disregard for
the environment of those galumphing about in ridiculously oversized
vehicles is maddening. While actual physical attacks are not
a constructive course of action, painting the scene must be very
satisfying.

What real effect does her work
have on the cause of environmentalism? It's difficult to say,
of course. But, as she states, change of the sort necessary to
save ourselves is cumulative. It will take a complete change
in the mindset of our culture, and such change generally happens
slowly at first, and eventually snowballs. In order to get the
snowball you have to have lots of little snowflakes at first,
and it's impossible to tell if your own small efforts will eventually
coalesce into the juggernaut of change.

However, Waters is not alone
in her quest to save the environment through art. A growing number
of artists are concerning themselves with environmental issues
and finding ways to express their concern through their art.
Some dedicate their work to the cause. Others may not see themselves
as "eco-warriors," but consider the impact of the materials
and methods that they use on the environment --- similar to the
way many of us are thinking more about recycling --- using less
toxic chemicals and driving cars designed for the conservation
of resources rather then the gluttonous consumption of them.

Like other trends in art, the
definition of environmental art depends on who you talk to, but
I like this simple, open definition on the Green Museum website
(greenmuseum.org): "In a general sense, it is art that helps
improve our relationship with the natural world." While
Waters chooses to paint, many other kinds of eco-art are being
produced, including site-specific sculpture, nature photography,
plein air painting and performance art. There are many examples,
and no one of them covers the broad spectrum of the genre, but
I'll give you a favorite of mine. In 1982, Agnes Denes planted
a two-acre lot in downtown Manhattan with wheat. The photographic
images of the wheat with the Statue of Liberty or Wall Street
buildings in the background were powerful, symbolic images that
brought our whole value system into sharp focus. Denes described
her work over the several months it took to clear the field,
plant it, tend the growing wheat and harvest it. She and her
co-workers attracted a lot of attention, of course, and people
cheered or scratched their heads in wonder and mild amusement
throughout the process, but what most struck me were the tears
of the onlookers as the wheat was harvested. Some people said
that they didn't even know why, but the whole thing made them
sad.

Art is about dialogue. An artist
has an idea and expresses it on canvas (or whatever). People
look at the painting and have their own reactions to it. And
then they talk about it --- to each other, with the artist. Some
of us write articles about what they see, some write books about
it. Artists give lectures about their work and people respond
to them with praise, criticism or questions. And it's all more
grist for the mill.

In this case, Waters wants us
to talk about environmental degradation, loss of habitat for
other species and ecosystem collapse. While the images are challenging,
the humor in them helps people to be more open-minded. Whether
you agree with her politics or not, the striking images are likely
to make you think and talk about the issues, and in that sense,
they are successful. Her work can be seen at the First Street
Gallery in Old Town through the month of October or at her website,
michellewatersart.com.